


The edge of sanity

by Triyune



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Altered Mental States, Autogynephilia, Belly Kink, Bisexuality, Bodily Fluids, Body Horror, Bodyswap, Crossdressing Kink, Cunnilingus, Delusions, Descent into Madness, Disturbing Themes, F/F, Falling In Love, Female Bruce Wayne, Female Joker (DCU), Fluid Sexuality, Gender or Sex Swap, Graphic Description, Heavy Angst, Homosexuality, Horror, Insanity, Insemination, Jealousy, Kink Exploration, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Mpreg, Porn with Feelings, Rape, Reality Bending, Simultaneous Orgasm, Strap-Ons, Surprise Kissing, Surreal, Top Joker (DCU), Trans Male Character, Transformation, Tribadism, Vaginal Fingering, fetishistic transvestism, sex-fluid, transbiological sex, vaginal prosthesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26835421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triyune/pseuds/Triyune
Summary: Under great horrors, Bruce develops a second bodily reality, which encroaches upon his world and suddenly, he finds himself and the Joker being female. Yet, as time goes by, that alternative reality turns into a fact for Bruce and he simply starts exploring his new lesbian sexuality together with an autogynephile Joker who is just too eager to shove Bruce deeper into this strange world of labia, clits and sour body fluids.At first, at least.
Relationships: Joker (DCU) & Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne, female Bruce Wayne/female Joker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	1. Descent

** The edge of sanity **

A few weeks after that incident, I woke up and felt violently sick. I had had a night full of absurd and bad dreams, so I wasn't surprised that I had an upset stomach. I dragged myself to the bathroom and had a look at myself. Feeling a little discouraged at that sorry sight, I pursed my lips. Suddenly, that feeling of nausea worsened and I hurried down on my knees and bent over the toilet to throw up. The smell of the urinal cake so early in the morning caused me to retch even harder, but just a small string of white fluid left my mouth. When I felt a little better after fifteen minutes of leaning against the toilet, I got up and went back to bed since I felt so tired. I must have caught some disease.

However, the next morning started the same way and after my toilet session, I went to the kitchen and got me a glass of water. Alfred noticed my trouble and asked me whether I was feeling a little better. I said no and kept sitting there for an hour, staring into space until that nausea got better.  
The next two days were like a copy of the first one and on the fifth day, I decided that I needed to get back to work since nothing but that sickness was actually causing me trouble. Yet, at work, I felt so weak and still tired that I couldn't get much done. When it was lunch time, I went to the cafeteria, but when I had my food on the plate in front of me I couldn't get anything down. I was hungry, but at the same time, I felt so sick and bloated that just the look of that meat made me close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing in order to not throw up on the plate.  
I was glad when it was Friday and I could leave. 

During the weekend, I developed a kind of dizziness which accompanied me throughout the days. At some point, I turned angry since I was tired of this halfhearted disease. Either I'd lie in bed with proper fever, headache, coughing and whatnot or I'd walk around and work, but this state was just inacceptable. It went on for another week until it stopped and everything was back to normal.  
But not for long.  
When my secretary came to my bureau to give me some papers I got a nosefull of her parfume and instantly, I felt sick to my stomach again. I had to leave and lie down at home and during the night, I even had to get up and throw up again. 

And the next morning started with pain.  
It was my lower abdomen. I had never actually had any problems with that and I was a bit worried, thus. It felt like cramps and I got angry again, believing that I had not cured that previous disease completely. When I started having the shits I felt a little better, although bodywise, nothing was fine at all. But I was sure, finally, that it was just some gastrointestinal infection.  
For two more weeks, I dragged myself through the world, feeling tired to my bones, sick and dizzy. Especially when I was standing for a longer time, like during a meeting, the dizziness got so bad that I had to sit down. I was not used to that and I started getting worried. It couldn't only be that infection. Maybe all those sleepless nights finally took their toll. Anyway, it was impossible for me by now to leave the house at night to roam the streets of Gotham.

Once I had tried that; slipped into my Batman dress and left, but when I sat on a roof and was watching the docks for those typical thug things, I felt so dizzy that I had to move away from the edge of the building, fearing that I'd just drop from it in a sudden fainting fit. I had decided then that it was much too dangerous for me right now to do that sort of thing and I had temporarily given it up.

And again, after another week, it was all gone.  
No, that wasn't right. Although I had not been eating much during those weeks, the feeling of abdominal fullness did not fade. In fact, it even grew worse. However, that was no reason for me to visit a doctor; I'd just bear with it until it would be gone too.  
In order to keep better track of what I was eating and what could possibly cause that nasty feeling, I started a food diary. Once already, I had been keeping a very neurotic diary about my weight since as Batman, I needed to be in top shape. Breakfast, lunch, preferably something cooked, light dinner; and following this rigid routine, I managed to keep my weight stable. I had stopped it eventually, since nothing ever changed and I was assured that I was doing fine.

Yet, those recent events made me keep one again, especially since I kept falling the victim to some uncommon food cravings these days. But I blamed it exactly on this rigid routine. I always ate the same kind of stuff and maybe, my body was craving some variation. However, when I kept gaining weight, not much, but steadily, and while my pants and shirts kept fitting me perfectly, I was a bit confused.

I had never cared much for this body anyway; it was just a tool for me to do what I was here for. I understood that I had to keep it healthy and well so it would serve me well, but other than that, it wasn't much more to me. As a consequence of my very lapidary attitude towards my body, I did not worry too much since I was used to physical aberrations from time to time. Hormones, not enough sleep, mental troubles; that all kept my body changing and as long as it kept working for me, I would condone that.

However, when I started developing a slight pot belly, I did get worried. Desperate, even, since I did not eat any other stuff than usually. That belly went along with more cramps and a tightness in my chest. And strangely enough, it got slightly worse every day.  
Six weeks later, I needed to get me a new suit since my old ones did not fit me anymore. It was difficult for me to accept that since I was a bit on the conceited side. When I had taken off my jacket for the tailor to take my measurements, I felt so embarrassed at that protruding thing that I started sweating and suffered from another fit of dizziness.

With a contrite heart, I went home that day and went down to the Batcave to pump iron and get my body back into shape, but as soon as I lifted those weights I felt a fiery pain in my abdomen and dropped them. It was like my body was reacting against my attempts at helping it.  
I just didn't feel at home in it anymore.

When haemorrhoids joined the line of physical defects, I despaired. By now, I was so short-winded and feeling so bloated that I felt embarrassed at showing myself in public. And I felt too ashamed than to visit any doctor anymore. Bruce Wayne, that pretty boy, was turning into a dumpling. I felt so disgusted with myself that I did not even look into the mirror anymore.  
Of course, Alfred got wind of that all and asked me what was wrong. But I could not tell him since I didn't have any clue myself.

Two months later, two horrible months full of various strange bodily experiences, I stood in front of the mirror, naked, looking at myself for the first time in months again.  
What I saw was not possible.  
First, my mind went blank and I felt heat creeping into my cheeks. I tried to convince myself that this wasn't real. Only some stupid joke.  
When I put my hand on it, I came to acknowledge that it was real.  
Panic spread in my mind and I felt sick again. So sick that I had to sit down on the floor, which turned out to be super difficult. I could not ignore that anymore.

Breathing hard and fighting to remain conscious, I stared at myself in the mirror.  
A huge belly was resting on top of my crotch. So huge that I could not even see my dick anymore when I looked down. I had not gained any weight anywhere else but just there.  
Tentatively, I pressed a finger against it. It felt hard.  
Suddenly, I felt something reacting inside, some movement. I gasped and quickly removed my hand. The panic I felt at that did not allow me to catch any clear thought at all.

Frightened with terror, I stared at the mirror.  
I was carrying a parasite.  
The only reasonable explanation for this was that Superman had brought some kind of alien parasite to earth when he had been back from his universe walk and during our last meeting, I had, someway, somehow, gotten it into my body.

“Alfred,” I whispered and watched my belly growing as I inhaled. But not the way it usually did. My lungs felt so constricted and I watched them moving upwards instead of outwards.

“Alfred!” I yelled and cursed since I was short of breath.

One minute later, Alfred showed up. He stopped abruptly when he saw me. Shock was in his eyes as he looked at that thing under my chest. When he searched for my eyes I felt so desperate that I almost started crying at looking into his.

“Alfred,” I whimpered and supported myself against the floor, presenting him that enormous thing.

Wordlessly, he knelt down in front of me and put a hand on my belly. He looked into my eyes and I saw that his shock was gone. He looked serious. And terribly worried. He shook his head and removed his hand, then he sat down.

“Master Bruce,” he started off, but didn't continue anymore.

I had the feeling that he knew what this was about and the fact that he was lacking words let me fear the worst. I watched him licking his lips, glancing at that thing again and then looking at me.

“This is not possible,” he said.

I gave a short and desperate laugh which made me belch. I closed my eyes, feeling so ashamed. It was so gross.

“What is that,” I whispered and tried hard not to belch again while talking.

“It looks like a...well. I'm not sure.”

“Like a what?!” I shouted, feeling so distressed by now that I could not hold back anymore.

He glanced at the belly again, then back at me.

“Like pregnancy.”

That word was like a stab in my heart. For some moments, I thought that I had misunderstood him, that I had misunderstood myself and the entire world. I even feared that I had gone mad and was just living through a very persistent psychotic episode.  
I had gone mad, yes.

“Master Bruce?” he asked carefully at watching my eyes going unfocused.

His suit was black. It was always black. A white shirt, neatly buttoned. Grey beard. Bald. I knew him, I knew his name, his history, his likes and dislikes.  
I couldn't have gone mad.  
And though, when I looked down, hoping that together with this realization, the thing would be gone, I had to see that it was still there, happily bulging.  
So big.  
I lay down on my side and while I felt that thing following, I opened my mouth, closed my eyes and started gagging. 

In fact, I would have preferred having gone mad, but since Alfred could see it too and since the surroundings of this room did not seem unfamiliar or strange to me at all, I had to face the fact that I was not crazy. And both of us could not have had the same psychotic fit.  
This was real.  
Impossible.  
But real.

I started hyperventilating and Alfred pressed his hand against my mouth, but I pushed it away. I wanted to throw this up, to exhale it, to press it through my mouth and get rid of it, this horrible thing, this outrageous monster, this assembly of nerve cells, fat and flesh, this ulcer.  
My vision turned black and I passed out.

I woke up in my bed. Warm, soft, cosy.  
What a horrible nightmare. I smiled and rubbed my head against the pillow.

I opened my eyes. My vision was blocked by a huge heap of flesh. I opened my eyes wide and gasped. It did not go away.  
I started screaming, kicking and thrashing. At least as much as I could with this immense ball. And I got short of breath again, but I kept screaming until I fainted again.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw Alfred sitting next to me. Helplessly, I stared at him. I wished I had gone mad.

“Master Bruce, please calm down,” he said and moved closer, “Let me take another look, okay?”

“Kay,” I whispered absent-mindedly.

If I just ignored it it wouldn't be there.  
But his touch reminded me of it and I flinched.

“Does it hurt?”

“No! Well, yes. At times,” I said. I felt so confused that I barely understood him.

He moved his hands over it.  
I felt so disgusted. That was my body, and then again, it wasn't anymore.

“We need to see a doctor.”

“No!!!” I yelled, fearing that he would only confirm this impossibility.

Imagining another man looking at this made me feel so embarrassed that I took the blanket and covered my body with it.

“We _have_ to!”

“NO!!!” I yelled again and tried to sit up. It was almost impossible with this thing; I felt like a turtle lying on its back, unable to move or get up at all.

“Fuck this!” I shouted, kicked the blanket off my body again and forced myself to sit up.

I gazed at my belly, still not believing anything of this. I put a hand on it and I felt skin under it. It _was_ real. The feeling made me so desperate that I started hitting my belly, punching it, violently, manically, until Alfred took my wrist, but I reached out with my other hand and tried to hit it and Alfred just took my other hand as well and pinned them down on the mattress.

“Alfred,” I whimpered again.

Nausea spread in my body and my belly ached.

“What is happening to me,” I wailed and felt tears streaming down my cheeks. 

He didn't say anything. He let go of my hands and I lifted them and buried my face in them. When my elbows touched my belly I freaked out and squirmed, whining and wailing.

“Make it go away,” I squealed, feeling desperate beyond all reason.

When I felt too weak than to go on any more I collapsed on the bed and turned to sobbing.

“Well, I don't know exactly how this is possible, but I am sure that a doctor can help us. And make it go away,” Alfred said with a strange voice.

“How _is_ this possible, is it growing in my colon, or what?” I whined.

Then I froze.  
I held my breath and stared into space.  
I remembered.

______

“I've got a gift for you.”

Pain.

“Something”

Thrust.

“Very special.”

Thrust.

“Just for you.”

Thrust.

“Hold on and watch,” he said and buried his dick in my ass again.

“Just a little patience, Bats,” he said, grinning, and pushed it in again.

My arms were tied up; I could not move them. My legs were tied to the chair.  
A gynaecological chair.  
My legs were resting on the supporting steel pedals, tied to them; my ass elevated, my arms tied to the armrests. The smell of disinfectant. White tiles.  
I tried to move my arms, but it was impossible. My legs were spread. I tensed up my thighs, but I could not move my legs either. Between them, the Joker was moving back and forth, penetrating me.  
I gasped and struggled, but the ties kept me down.

“Don't make such a fuss, darling.”

Pain spread. Everywhere. I felt sick.  
Manic laughter flowed from his lips as he kept fucking me and my body was pushed up and down as his dick entered and left my ass, over and over again. I tried to clench my ass, but it was no use. It just made him laugh even louder.  
It hurt so much.

And his thrusts turned even more violent. Forcefully, he pushed it in and drew back and it was disgusting how much pleasure he drew from that. When I looked at his face, I saw that he had his eyes closed and a faint smile on his lips. I felt the need to gag.  
When he started panting and moaning, I turned my head away and stared at the cupboard and the counter with the surgical instruments. Scissors. Alcohol pads. Bottles. Syringes.  
I cried out in pain when he grabbed my balls and squeezed. His thrusts turned into quick shoves and he moaned out loud.

I tensed up and held my breath, the pain having become unbearable by now. My bowels revolted and my stomach tensed up so much that it hurt, but he kept pushing and pulling. His expression was ecstatic. It was so disgusting that I screamed, finally, but he just opened his eyes and savoured my distress. A big grin made me close my eyes. I'd wait until it was over. It would be over, eventually.  
Soon, please.

And indeed, after another horrible minute of abuse, he drew back and stepped down from the chair. I tried to push the semen out, but he giggled and touched my anus and reflexively, I clenched it.

“No no no no no,” he said and laughed.

I slammed my head against the headrest and clenched my teeth.  
It was just unbearable.  
Again, I tried to push it out, but he took a scalpel and cut my anus and the pain made me clench it, as much as I tried to relax.

“I said, don't make such a fuss, Bats. But now that you're awake, we can proceed.”

Pro  
ceed?

He took a small glass filled with white fluid. While I was still busy trying to unclench my ass and get rid of his cum, he pressed the glass against my lips and emptied it into my mouth and before I could cough and spit it out, he held my nose and pressed his hand against my lips to keep me from spitting it out. The consistency of it almost made me retch.  
I fought against it.  
Until I got short of breath.  
I struggled, but he kept looking at me with those mischievous eyes and I knew that he'd only let go when I would have swallowed it down. I tried to resist the urge to swallow and draw my breath for as long as I could, but it was pointless, in the end.

I swallowed and he let go.  
Such a gross taste. But I knew it. It was cum.  
I coughed and wheezed and while I tried to regain my breath he cackled and went to the cupboard.  
Maybe I'd be able to throw up. If I just concentrated on it hard enough I would be able to-  
Cotton on my lips, the smell of chloroform.  
Fuck.

My senses faded out under the dying laughter of a madman.

“Master Bruce?”

My jaw had dropped.  
No.

“What is it, Master Bruce?!” he demanded to know.

This couldn't be.  
Absent-mindedly, I breathed in and out, slowly. I bent my head and gazed at the paunch.  
How...

I turned to the side and retched. My belly ached terribly from the blows from before and in my despair, I started hitting it again while I threw up under tears.  
This wasn't right, this was absolutely not right.  
To my left, Alfred got up and hurried out of the room.  
I seized that opportunity and punched that fucked thing and also bent my legs as much and as forcefully as possible to hit this awful breed with my knees. After a few kicks and punches, it felt like something burst and an atrocious pain spread in my belly. Screaming and yelling, venting my despair and fear, I kept hitting and kicking; I did not care whether that would kill me, I just wanted to get rid of it. This parasite which was poisoning my blood, feeding on me, twisting my thoughts, wrecking my body.

Strong arms forced me to lie down on my back again and I felt a prick in my neck. I pushed his hand away, but it was too late. I grabbed a handful of my own flesh and tore at it, but the sedative was already working on my mind and body.  
I swallowed hard and scratched my belly to try to open it so I could press it through the slit and rid myself of this hell. Blood streamed down my belly, but I didn't give up until my vision went black. I gasped and my arms sank down.

“I'll call the doctor,” I heard it next to me.  
And before I could object to it, I had passed out.

______

Heat.  
Darkness.  
I did not know where I was. Somehow, I had the feeling I was dreaming and awake at the same time. My body felt like it had turned into steel and still tried to expand, everything so full, pressing against the skin.  
Body against body.  
I did not think much about it, but I just moved my hand and miraculously, it worked out. I brushed over solid flesh. So firm. I pinched that skin and a moan escaped me. I moved my hand further down and met another thing, even firmer. Greedily, I closed my fingers around it and tightened my grip. I knew that one.

A bolt of pleasure rushed through my body and made me turn my head in ecstasy. I could not explain what was giving me such pleasure; I simply accepted it.  
I pulled back the foreskin and pressed the exposed tip against my belly. Two bodies meeting, both of them my own.  
So hard.  
I squeezed the tip and pressed it against my bulge more firmly. Which one would give way first? I bent over backwards and my belly felt even tighter since the flesh was compressed. I slapped my dick against it, once twice, then I rubbed it against the belly again and just the thought of these two solid bits meeting and competing made me moan in blind ecstasy. My mind was so foggy that I did not question anything of what was happening; I simply abandoned myself to the pleasure this sensual play was giving me.

I groped my belly and pinched the flesh again while I did the same with my tip. It was such an awesome feeling. When I let go of my dick it remained in that position, snuggling up to my belly and I smiled and honoured it with an appreciative moan. I turned to my balls then and grabbed them. They were much softer, squishier, and the contrast of these two so very different qualities made my dick twitch. I gave them a hearty squeeze, then I took my dick again and started pumping it while I rocked my hips. That movement made me feel sick since my stomach got compressed between solid masses of flesh, but that just heightened my pleasure.

Synchronously, I rocked my hips, up and down, while I pumped my dick and made sure that the tip of it collided with my belly every time I moved up into the air.  
It was so arousing, imagining my own body fucking itself.  
I started panting and soon, I got short of air, but this time, the lack of oxygen added to my arousal. My arms hurt already, but I stubbornly kept pumping and touching my belly, feeling for that hardness, pinching the flesh and grabbing it.

When the cramps set in again in my abdomen I moaned with pain and pleasure at the same time. In a wicked way, I was able to connect both of them and they merged, as did my dick and my belly. It was one thing and moving on its own. This thought turned me on so much that I came. I tensed up and moaned loudly, still rocking my hips and pumping the semen out of my dick.  
For a few moments, I had forgotten all the trouble and was dwelling on that untainted bliss which the touch of these hard objects gave me. Hard body parts which usually were soft and pliable, but my arousal had turned them into solid, hard things.  
I moaned for one last time, then I fell down on the bed. While one thing turned back to softness, the other remained firm and bloated. Blissfully lost in the afterglow of that orgasm, I kept stroking the hard thing and with my other hand, I wiped the semen from my dick and spread it on my belly.  
It did not lose its firmness at all.

Grinning stupidly and with my eyes still closed, I turned on my side and hugged my belly.  
Such an enormous thing. So hard. So mine.  
Blissfully happy, I snuggled up to the blanket and fell asleep again.

______

Warmth.  
Red.  
Pain.  
Not my body. But I could feel the pain, clearly. I felt weak and sick again.  
Confused. Elusive images and feelings, like a warm echo, a quickly fading shimmer of light, drowned out by the harsh darkness. I remembered bits and pieces, a warm feeling, but the more I tried to revive it, the more it faded away, moving into the distance.

And finally, the pain I felt drove the rest of those feelings and images, which I tried to cling to so desperately, out of my head and they were replaced by something else.  
Manic laughter rang in my ears and I moaned.  
My body felt like bursting and I remembered, finally. Gasping, I tried to move, but I couldn't. I panicked at becoming aware of my own immobility. I wanted to get up and run, escape, but only my mind could move; I was trapped in my own body. Or that which was supposed to be my body.  
And the pain got worse.

It would eat me up. Bit by bit. My stomach wasn't mine anymore. It had claimed it.  
My mind lay in pieces; it had claimed it too.  
My heart ached, it had gotten weak, beating for two. A bastard thing. An assembly of bones, flesh, blood and teeth. So many teeth. I felt them gnawing at my flesh. Long fingernails scratching the insides of my body. Black fingernails. So sharp.

I stretched my neck and moaned again.  
My spine hurt. I could barely breathe. It breathed my oxygen and there barely wasn't any left for me.  
The blood was pulsing in my head, it felt like bursting; a terrible headache.  
My legs and arms had gone numb; I could not move them. All that was left which I was perceiving was my torso and my head. It felt so full, everything, full to bursting.

“Baby, _baby_ ,” a voice I knew so well and loathed so much sang into my ear.

“Don't make such a fuss, darling.”

I heaved a groan and squinted my eyes shut.  
The longer I tried to escape this, the more it grew. It grew into my lungs, grew through my chest, grew into my arms and into my legs. I opened my mouth, but no sound would leave me. I did not have any air left to scream. The pressure in my head grew as it reached the top of my skull. Petrified and completely unable to move, I lay there, consciously experiencing the descent into a bodily kind of hell which was unbearable.  
Earpiercing laughter echoed in my head as it pushed against the skullcap. I could not breathe anymore.

And for a second, I died.  
Sick, aching, feeling like exploding while thin walls of skin kept it inside.  
Hell.

Warm liquid streamed down my cheeks.  
I tensed up and gasped.  
Then it burst through.

______

“Mister Wayne?”

“Yes?”

“When does the meeting start?”

“3pm.”

“Thanks.”

“Mister Wayne?”

I gasped and returned.  
Bit by bit.  
Very slowly.  
Bit by bit, that body turned into mine again and I could feel my arms and legs again.  
And after a few moments of fierce concentration, I could even open my eyes.  
A man and Alfred bent over me. I looked into two pairs of curious eyes.

“How are you?”

I knew that voice. I had heard it a long time ago; ages had passed since it had been in my ears last time.

“Kchhhh,” it came from my mouth.

“Good.”

That man's face disappeared and only Alfred's was left in my sight.

“In case of any complications or questions don't hesitate to call me.”

Alfred's face disappeared too and only the ceiling was left.

“Thank you.”

Footsteps. Then Alfred's face again.

“Master Bruce, it's all good. Don't move too much. You'll need some more time to recover, but you're fine. Don't worry.”

About what?

“Duh-aaah”

My arm moved. Slid across the cotton sheet. I needed to know.

“Whuyah eaah”

The moves of my larynx made me feel sick again.

“Don't talk. It's all good.”

Something cold against my fingers. I could feel something on my fingers, I could feel that I was touching something, but I could not feel anything else.

“Thavey...uh...fing...wey?”

“Ssshhh.”

The feeling of touching something which definitely should have been part of my body and not feeling this touch at all unsettled me a little.

“Bha...Afa,” I gasped, trying to make him understand that I needed to know what had happened.

His finger lightly touched my lips and I gave it up.

“Keeh.”

I tried to move my eyes down, but I could not see my body from this perspective. I'd have to settle with it.  
Feeling so very tired, I closed my eyes again and instantly drifted off into sleep.

_____

Some days later, I sat in the kitchen, my head propped up on my hands, a cup of coffee in front of me.  
I had looked at my belly as soon as I had been able to sit up. And it seemed like nothing had ever happened. No scar. No stretch marks. No bruises.  
I had almost lost my mind at seeing my perfectly shaped belly. My sixpack was still there, my skin flawless, my navel the way it had always been.  
I had decided to never say a word about this again, to anyone.

I took a deep breath and drank my coffee. Alfred was sitting in front of me, eyeing me warily.  
What had _he_ seen?  
What in God's name had _I_ seen?  
I pinched the bridge of my nose and secretly touched my belly so he wouldn't see it.  
No bulge. No pain. Nothing unfamiliar.  
This uncertainty, this doubtfulness was killing me.

“Alfred?”

“Yes, Master Bruce?”

“What...”

I could not continue. Despite my decision to never talk about it again, I wanted to ask him what had happened during the last few months. Eight months, if I remembered correctly. But I could not pronounce it.

“Master Bruce?”

“Nothing. I'm fine,” I said and forced myself to give him the most honest-looking fake smile I had ever managed to produce.

He lifted an eyebrow and pressed his lips together.  
And that look let me feel a pang in my guts. A sharp pain, right between my crotch and chest. I clenched my teeth to keep myself from gasping and pressed a hand against my belly.

Sweat formed on my forehead and I hurried to bring the cup to my lips to hide my distress from him. But the coffee tasted so awful that I forced myself to swallow it and quickly put the cup down.  
I felt something nudging my inside.  
I cleared my throat and smiled at him.  
Something kicked the insides of my guts and I tensed up. It might have been some spontaneous muscle twitching as well, but I thought I knew the difference by now.  
Nervously, I shifted on my chair and took a deep breath. I took the cup again to drink some more coffee, but just when I had the liquid in my mouth I felt my stomach ripping and I dropped the cup and spat out the coffee.

I tried to clear my throat again, but I only came to moan and I bent over, holding my belly.  
A cramping pain made me clench my teeth and hold my breath.  
No, please.

“Master Bruce.”

I gave him a wry smile and tried to stand it without bursting into moaning.  
Warmth spread on my buttocks. Fearing the worst, I spread my legs a little and looked down at the seat.  
Blood.

I laughed out loud.  
I was having my period again.  
Not pregnant. 

I laughed with relief and the pain dwindled.

“Master _Bruce_.”

Laughing manically, I leaned back and abandoned myself to expressing my relief.  
When I had caught my breath again I looked at Alfred. 

“It's nothing. I'm fine. Really,” I said and I really meant it this time.

I watched him taking a deep breath and glancing at my belly.

“I'm fine, really,” I said again and got up to get me more coffee. 

Blood trickled down my thighs. But I was thankful for that feeling. The best feeling since months.  
I sat down again and drank and the coffee tasted marvellous.

“The best coffee I've ever had,” I stated and smiled at him widely.

Alfred interlaced his fingers and hid his mouth behind them.

“Do we have some tampons left?”

I watched him closing his eyes.  
Expectantly, I looked at him until he opened them again, then he put his hands on his thighs and said: “Master Bruce, are you _really_ okay?”

I bit down on my lower lip, feeling euphoric, almost.

“Yes!” I said, beaming with joy.

He pursed his lips and he seemed like being worried, or confused, I could not tell.  
Anyway, I couldn't tell what seemed to be the trouble.

“Well, I think I'll take a shower,” I said and got up. 

The blood had dried on my thighs and butt and I wanted to wash it off. Still smiling, I left and went into the bathroom. I turned on the water and waited until the bathtub had filled up. Meanwhile, I shaved my face.  
When I slid into the hot water I relaxed instantly. It felt so good. All that trouble gone. I closed my eyes and sighed.

But when I opened them, the water had turned red.  
Blood red.  
I wanted to scream, but no sound would leave me. Frantically, I tried to move my arms and legs, but it felt like the water had turned into stone and I could not move at all.  
Yet, finally, I could inhale and I screamed, as loudly as I could. I tried to get out of the tub, but I felt so weak that I could not even sit up. Alfred came rushing in and he pulled me out of the tub since my head had sunken below the surface and my mouth was filling up with blood.

“Oh God, Master Bruce,” he gasped and held me in his arms.

Blood spread on the floor.  
More and more.  
It was like my entire body was dissolving and turning into blood.

“Oh God...”

______


	2. Chemical sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce recovers, slowly.   
> Yet, the world is taking a turn again and it sends him a most mischievous man he absolutely does not need right now in order to feel better. IF that was a man at all! As he finds himself fingering and licking that 'man' he relapses and starts fantasizing about returning to the womb.

**Chemical sex**

I spent the next few days in bed, exhausted and spent, although I could not tell where this was coming from. And every morning, I woke up in a puddle of blood and some sort of greyish white mucus. Also, as for that, I could not tell where that was coming from. The cramps got better as well and when I felt strong enough again, I went to work, ignoring this, since there was no pain and no other strange bodily reactions anymore. Only that same day, the first day back at work, I suddenly noticed my pants being wet. I was sitting on my chair, taking care of paperwork when my seat felt wet, so I spread my legs and looked down. Fresh blood stains on my crotch.

I panicked and shut my legs so forcefully that I hurt my knees.  
It felt like being part of a nightmare.  
Slowly, I spread my legs again and touched the wet spots and it was blood indeed. Too embarrassed than to leave my bureau, I kept sitting there for an hour, thinking of what I could do. For a minute, I toyed with the thought of sending my secretary to Miller's to get me a new pair of pants, but what should I have told her? In a fit of presenile incontinence, I had peed my pants? I felt so sick by now that I did not need other people to think me sick too, so I abandoned that thought. Maybe it would dry and nothing would be seen on the black fabric anymore.

Another hour later, it _had_ dried, but it was still visible. I had no choice. I got my briefcase packed and left the bureau, carefully watching out for any employees on the corridor. When one of them passed me though, I put the briefcase in front of my crotch to hide it.  
Finally, standing in the elevator, alone, I took a deep breath. Tomorrow, I'd bring another pair of pants along to work.  
At home, I showered and spent the day watching TV. I still felt tired and not motivated to do any kind of work which needed more than two braincells.  
The next day, I woke up in blood again; however, after that, it was gone. Miraculously ended; as abruptly as it had started.  
And I tried to forget.

Until I sat on my chair in my bureau again and the secretary put an envelope on my desk. It was a white envelope with my name written on it.

“Who's that from?”

“The postman delivered it along with the usual mail.”

“Thanks.”

I stared at the envelope. Somehow, I had the feeling that nothing was over yet.  
I opened it and took out a small piece of paper which was folded. I unfolded it and read:

_“With my deepest sympathy. I am sorry that you lost your baby.  
\- A dear friend.”_

Heat crept up my cheeks and I dropped the paper. For some moments, I gazed at the wall in front of me, not believing what I had read nor what I was feeling.  
There was no way this could have been true.  
With sweaty hands, I crumpled the paper and threw it into the dust bin. It was so disturbing that I thought that if I just got rid of it I would be able to forget it, but that feeling of having gone mad accompanied me throughout the day. It made me question this all again, but as much as I thought about it, I didn’t come up with any explanations, neither what possibly could have happened if I had _not_ been pregnant, nor what had happened so that I had fallen pregnant and then even lost my baby.

Anyway, there was only one person who could have sent me that letter and usually that person’s single aim was to get a laugh at my expenses so I could not take that seriously. And then again, I _had_ to since I had no idea how he should have gotten to know about the pregnancy – if he was not the one to be blamed.  
The only logical conclusion, considering the facts and events, was that it _was_ him who had to be blamed. He had made me pregnant, how ridiculous and impossible that might have sounded, but it was his fault. He had pumped his sperm into me and even made me drink it, tied to a gynaecological chair, babbling weird stuff like “I’ve got a gift for you”. It was obvious.

Now I knew that it had been him, but that didn’t change anything of what had happened. So I simply tried to forget, yet again. But I suffered from nightmares, about every second night, so I decided to spend the nights hunting again. When I came home then, I just fell on the bed and fell asleep instantly and no dreams would bother me.  
One night, however, I heard rumours about the old chemical plant being lit up again. It was strange, since it had been abandoned after that incident and for years, it had been rotting away on the border of Gotham. I needed to check on that.

The next night, I got dressed and drove to the plant and indeed, it was flashing like a Christmas tree. I decided to enter through a back door and passed some corridors. All the while, I had been listening for some sound, but it was silent. Finally, I came to the main hall and hid behind a huge tank to check the situation first. There was a strange smell in the air; chemical and sharp.  
As silently as possible, I went around the tank to catch a glimpse of the hall. A grey haze was in the air, like the hall had been flooded with mist.

No noise, no movement, no one there. I left my hiding place and went to the middle of the hall to look around. As I looked left I startled. Someone was leaning against another tank, arms crossed in front of his chest, watching me.  
The green hair almost merged with the colour of the tank behind it, but the red lips instantly woke memories. He didn't move at all but just kept looking at me, so I took a few steps towards him.  
I knew that kind of behaviour. Often, he had pretended to wait and just look until I would approach him and then he'd start the show, take out a knife, fire the bomb or present me the bottle with the poison. He forced me to make the first move; otherwise, nothing would happen and we'd stand there till the end of the world.

Cautiously, I stepped up to him, my eyes fixed on his. I _had_ caught a glimpse of the rest of him, but I felt too troubled than to look at it. However, when he pushed himself away from the tank, his attire caught my attention though. Through that haze, which was seeping into my mind, I could see him.  
He wore high heels, a black pencil skirt and a black neckholder top; his hair was straightened and gelled back. Yet, the most unsettling detail about his uncommon armour was his chest. Two noticeable bulges which could not have been anything else but breasts.

I was so confused by that sight that I made the last few steps without noticing. He could have stabbed me now, shot me and I would not even have noticed in my confusion.  
One metre in front of him, I stopped and gazed at him. There was a shy, but seductive look in his eyes. He fluttered his eyelashes and a smile flashed across his face.  
That woke me up. I reached for his throat and squeezed, hissing: “You fucked me and I fell pregnant!”

The faint smile turned into a grin while he clutched at my hand to remove it from his throat. As he shifted his weight, I heard the heel of his shoe hitting the floor. For a moment, I felt dazed and unsure about what to do now and I loosened my grip.

“But darl, how's that possible with this?” he asked, took my hand and gently pulled the glove from my hand.

I was so confounded that I just let it happen. The glove fell on the floor and long, dainty fingers with neatly cut nails caressed my fingers. When I looked down, I was led to believe that the hands of a woman were fondling mine.  
The world around me slipped.  
He took my hand, lifted his skirt a little and pulled my hand under it. I was so petrified that I did not object to it. He put it on his crotch and I jerked.  
Wet and soft.

I tried to draw back, but he pressed it against his genital and smiled indulgently.  
It couldn't be.  
My fingers clearly touched beefy cushions with a slit between them. Gasping, I flexed my fingers and they slid past the two cushions to delve into that hot and wet abyss.  
My head shot up and I stared into his eyes. His gaze was steady and he didn't seem to entertain any thoughts of taking out any knives or bombs. He hypnotized me with those flashy green eyes seamed by black and long lashes and I became aware of how hot it felt inside his vagina. I could feel it, so it must have been real.

Completely out of my mind, I lifted my other hand to test reality. As my shaky fingers lay down on his breast I gave a desperate whimper. So much I had hoped that it would not be what it looked like. But it couldn't be a tactile illusion; what I touched was firm, yet soft and squishy. Tentatively, I grabbed it again and it felt the same as before.  
I started panting, panic spreading in my whole body. My heart was racing and my vision got slightly blurred. It was too much. Too wrong. Too real.

When he put his hand on mine and made me grope his breast again, my knees gave way, but I caught myself and straightened my back again. It felt like my mind had left my body and I could not think anymore.  
His hand left mine and he gently caressed my face while his other hand made me push my fingers deeper into his vagina. It was so hot and so wet.  
And with utmost distress, I realized that I was getting wet down there as well.

“Not so shy, darling,” he whispered into my ear with his most seductive voice and I closed my eyes.

I felt heat gathering in my lower abdomen and I blushed. His hand moved mine back and forth so that my fingers slid in and out of his vagina. Under normal circumstances, I would have described my own bodily reaction as getting aroused, but the sensation was slightly different. It all gathered in a tiny spot. The usual feeling of when I got hard was a little less intense and it felt like it was rather inside my body than outside. Like, unreachable, untouchable.  
It was so distracting that I left his breast and bluntly grabbed my crotch. I jerked at touching myself because it felt so intense.  
Anyway, I blamed it on my hormones; I must have been at some phase in my menstrual cycle when my receptivity was peaking.

In front of me, that man grinned knowingly and pulled my head closer for a kiss.  
I forgot who he was.  
His lips tenderly touched mine and embraced them gently. So full, so voluptuous. I let go of my crotch and got back to groping his breasts. While his lips caressed mine I kneaded the firm flesh while I rubbed my finger against his vestibule. It was so tempting, I could not resist and since he was indulging in it as well it was no problem. Or was it.

When I moved my fingers a little more upwards I felt that hard pearl. So much blood had gathered there that his clit felt hard and that feeling made me lose my mind. I kissed back harshly and kneaded his breast more roughly; finally having lost myself to carnal pleasures of the strangest kind. Everything seemed so natural now, so inviting, so right.

I rubbed my finger against his clit. He moaned and grabbed my crotch and even through that carbon jock strap, I could feel it. Or I meant to feel it. I hissed and rocked my hips without wanting that. To return the favour, I squeezed his clit and lightly pulled at it and I heard him giggling above me. Suddenly, I saw myself and him undressing and rubbing our clits against each other, but I quickly moved my thoughts away from that image, thinking that impossible.  
And though, it was incredibly erotic. Panting hard, I pulled his neckholder top aside, took out his breast and sucked it. He moaned loudly and squirmed. Smiling around the hard bud in my mouth, I pressed my forefinger against the pearl and snuck two fingers inside again where I searched for that spot.

It was just a little bulge, feeling quite rough and solid, but soft enough to poke it. He sent a loud 'mmmh' into my ear and squeezed my hand to encourage me to continue. I gave him a few more strokes, then I pulled my hand out and looked at it. Transparent fluid was on it. The air around us made it feel cool on my fingers. As I kept staring at it he reached under his skirt himself and that drew my attention to his eyes again. His cheeks were flushed and he looked so aroused that I felt vindicated. He stuck his fingers into his mouth and sucked the fluid from them, in the most seductive way. His full red lips embraced them and slowly, he let them slide from his mouth. He smacked his lips, savoured the taste and grinned at me.  
And I did the same. I wanted to taste it. When I had my fingers in my mouth, I moved my tongue over them. Barely any taste.  
But just barely. A bit on the sweet side, and slightly salty.  
An invitation.

Breathing hard, I got down on my knees and lifted his skirt with both hands.  
A cloud of pure pheromones robbed my senses and I was no longer in control of myself. That sight of that perfectly shaped peach with its inner labia cheekily peeking out between it, swollen from my touch, was so mesmerizing that I gazed at it from close for a few moments. Shaved, no hair left there, not even stubbles. A pure manifestation of temptation and lust.  
I gripped the skirt tightly and licked across the outer labia. He shuddered. So smooth. I looked at it again, licked my lips and let go of the skirt. It was about to slide down again, but he took it and held it up so I could work freely there.

I took both his outer labia and spread them to have a proper look at the hidden secret.  
It was so beautiful.  
Like the petals of a gladiola, his labia minora rested there, though, standing to attention, ready to unfold and let me enter. I closed my eyes and took them in my mouth to suck them. Gently, I pulled at them, touched them even with my teeth, but very carefully. I heard him panting above me now too.

Encouraged by his reaction, I moved a little upwards and closed my lips around his clit. Skilfully, I made a vacuum in my mouth and sucked at it, making it come out of its shelter. When it was exposed, I moved my tongue over it, circled it and pressed against it.  
He moaned.  
The most beautiful moan I had ever heard. So honest, so lost, so vibrant.  
I moved back a little and pulled back the prepuce so that pearl was exposed again. I breathed against it and watched it twitching. Smiling wickedly, I closed my eyes again and licked it, teasing it with quick and forceful licks. And my own arousal got unbearable.

Instead of touching myself, I put my hand on his breasts again and squeezed. His body turned into a thing of its own, moving, squirming with lust.  
Eventually, I removed my fingers and replaced them with my tongue, but not too deep, making sure that I would not touch that spot yet. He gasped and his fingers gripped one of my bat ears. I explored those tender walls, tasting ecstasy. So soft, so pliable. I turned to teasing his hymen, that fleshy assembly of rose petals. I let my tongue slide past it and sucked at it, then I licked along the vestibule, up to his clitoris again, but this time, I did not touch it but went down again. I gave his urethral opening a careful lick too and he bent down and moaned. However, I could not hold back any longer, so I kissed it and then stuck my tongue in again, this time my whole tongue.

I held still for a moment to search for his G-spot. It was all so easy. I exhaled through my nose, sending my breath against his labia again, then I started moving the tip of my tongue, up and down.  
I heard him suppressing a moan, gasping and then moaning though. They had become deeper and more needy.  
With closed eyes, I stimulated that spot until he jerked and let me hear another desperate moan. I started kneading his breasts then again, rubbing his nipple between my fingers and lightly pinching it while I continued licking him. Finally, I inserted a finger into his anus to tease those nerves as well. When it slid in, he cried out.

I left his breast and while I kept licking his spot and fondling his anus, I started rubbing his clitoris as well. He was so wet and breathing so hard that I knew that he was about to come.  
And he did.  
His pants turned into gasps and the moans got stuck in his throat. I felt his thighs tensing up, the muscles in his vulva contracting and he doubled over so that his nipples were playing around my ears and as he shook with orgasm, they brushed over them and caressed them. I felt so aroused that it turned into a most sensual sensation. Although I had no nerves in these artificial ears, I could feel his breasts on them, how they touched them and how those ears turned hot at that touch.  
I was feeling close too; he was fucking my mind.

Since his orgasm still persisted while I as a man would have gone limp long ago already again, I left his vagina and turned to sucking his clitoris again to give both pieces the attention they deserved. And he burst into moaning then and his breasts hit my ears. I must have caught him just on the verge of another orgasm and I was eager to give him another one while the first one barely had dwindled.  
Indeed, he cried out again, louder than before and he rocked his hips to get more of that touch. I sucked hard and started fingering his anus again to move him towards a sensual overload.  
Eventually, his moans turned into gasps and I decided that I needed to see that, so I drew back, quickly put my fingers on his clit to rub it, and looked up.

Eyes squinted shut, his mouth open, his cheeks red, sweat on his forehead and the most erotic O face I had ever witnessed. So shamelessly, so natural. I watched him for some moments until the nature of his gasps changed and I meant to hear his expression of pain. I stopped torturing his clit and let my hands sink down on my thighs, still staring at him from below.  
As soon as I stopped, he stopped gasping too and leaned back against the tank, his eyes still closed. I watched him breathing, trying to regain his breath again and I smiled, fascinated by that sight.

He rubbed his head against the tank and finally opened his eyes again.  
My smile faded. Slowly.  
Cold crept into my body and the surroundings turned into a merciless steel landscape. When his eyes met mine, I felt them piercing my mind. They were so cold.  
Horror-stricken, I gazed at him.  
And when a grin, so evil and so wicked, spread on his lips, I swallowed hard and got up as quickly as I could. Hot liquid spread between my legs, but I had other things to deal with right now, since being at eye-level with that man just made it worse. We were closer and I was within the reach of his violent mind again. Those eyes looked at me so derisively that I had to take a step back to escape that abusive look.

“What...” I started off, but could not continue.

I blinked and looked down. His hands were still holding the skirt and I saw his vulva.  
I glanced at his eyes again and that silent mockery was like a stab in my heart. Panting, I quickly moved my eyes over his body, trying to deny what I was seeing, but it was there, as much as I tried to move his body into some different shape in my mind. And by the way, I had fingered and licked him and he had come.  
His sight sparked a kind of panic which made it impossible for me to think straight again. What had just happened? What had I done? What...just _what_?!

I started to feel lightheaded and sick. The longer I gazed at his body the more I lost my mind.  
His grin turned into a horrible smirk. He licked his lips, seductively, then he grinned at me.  
The horror which that caused within me was unbearable. Absent-mindedly, I took a few steps back. He started laughing, loud and shrill. I startled, turned around and ran. Passing several tanks, my footsteps echoing in the big hall and his laughter coming after me, chasing me. And still, when I had left the plant, I heard it behind me, like a tainted thought it lingered in my head, most physical, more than a thought, my reality infected with something so unutterable that it was pointless to try to find words for it.

I hurried towards my car, got in, started the engine and drove off. On the way back home I almost had an accident. I was so out of my mind that I was driving without lights, not to mention my inability to operate the brakes accordingly or use the blinker; I just wanted to get away from that place, as fast and as far as I could.  
Finally, I safely parked the car in the Batcave and got out. It was dark; I had switched off the lights before I had left. My feet touched the stone ground and the sound of that sent me back into that hall. It was cold here and dark. Breathing hard again, falling the victim to memories, now that my mind did not need to concentrate on staying alive by driving somewhat safely anymore, I staggered and collapsed. My bare hand touched the ground and it felt like it got stuck to the ice under it.  
I felt so sick that I started retching and the dizziness worsened.

With all my might, I tried to get that image out of my head. A man with manic laughter, holding his skirt up and the most tempting vulva calmly resting between his legs, singing a siren song I could not escape. I screamed and slammed my head against the ground to focus on the pain and make that image disappear, for a while, at least, but it got worse with the pain. As I hit the ground, my reason dwindled even more and that image turned into a physical sensation. Two huge and firm heaps of flesh were forming on my chest; liquid gushing out of my crotch and wetness spreading between my legs, liquid running down my thighs under my armour and my skin feeling tight, too tight.

I gave a desperate whimper and felt my lungs being compressed by my ribs. I was suffocating, needing more air, more space. Clumsily and with sweaty hands, I hurried to get out of my suit and as I removed the leg parts I saw white fluid on the crotch piece. White interspersed with transparent fluid. I threw the suit away and pressed my hands and shins against the floor, trying to concentrate on the coldness of it, but that laughter was everywhere. When I felt something touching my back I screamed with horror and let my body fall down on the ground. My hip bones collided with stone and I moaned with pain.

It hurt too much than to keep lying there so I propped myself up again and hoping that it would go away by closing my eyes, I froze and concentrated on my breathing. But the darkness merged with my body and another one lay down on mine; warm and soft. Hands slid down my upper arms, brushed over my biceps, the sweat lubricating my skin so they effortlessly slid over it, over my elbows, down my forearms, over my fingers and up again, moving over my chest, lightly and lovingly squeezing those heaps of flesh, that touch so tender and sensual that I just accepted it blindly. Fingers caressed my stomach, drew circles on it and brushed over my thighs, a hundred pairs of hands, all at once. Warmth spread around my genital and fingers closed around it, gently, but with such determination that I did not dare to oppose it.

As those thousands of fingers caressed my skin, my back, my neck, the spots behind my ears, my chest and toes, even, two of them slid in between my legs and touched my inside. I jerked and cried out. They wormed their way up my body, an entire arm disappeared between my legs to crawl upwards and when it had reached my heart it squeezed, so violently that I caught my breath. A stabbing pain in my chest made me gasp and freeze. Nails dug through my heart and I felt it ripping and spilling the blood into my chest. It got so tight and felt so full that I could not even breathe anymore. The tender touch of the hands turned into rough scratching and I felt liquid on my thighs again. My vision got blurred and I suffered from tunnel vision; yet, there was no light at the end of the tunnel, just deep blackness. The hands invaded my mind and burst through my thoughts, gripped them, tore them apart, squeezed, until black liquid oozed out of my head and I got it into my eyes and couldn't see anything anymore.  
I gave one last whimper of utmost despair and pain, then I passed out.

Alfred found me a few hours later.  
He had never seen me like that before. My body was lifelessly lying on the ground in a strange pose, a puddle of blood around my crotch and white fluid between my thighs. My mouth was open, my eyes closed, my fists clenched, my entire body covered in sweat. He called my name, but I could not answer.  
When fingers touched my skin again I jerked, but it happened out of reflex.  
I _was_ alive. But not _here_.  
I had gone to a strange place where it was dark and cold. A sea was surging around me, silently, slowly. The sky was dark, the sea black. Placid and silent. A place which could not exist in _this_ world at all. I was inside it, the sea around me, the sky around me.  
I never wanted to leave again.

My body was lifted and carried upstairs. It was put on a warm thing, then it was cleaned. A blanket was pulled over my body and the cold, dark sea turned into a warm and gentle sphere. A round room with no corners, filled with liquid, red, orange, interspersed with dark red veins. Peaceful. Silent. Warm.  
A thin membrane was around me, red light shimmering through it, gently, so friendly. A dull pounding was around me, reverberating in the warm liquid I was resting in. Although the space was limited, bounded by that thin membrane, it was so vast and endless to me. And somehow, there was no me at all. Just a feeling; a feeling without anything like words. I was one with that which was around me and though, distinct, this feeling being me.

Tears streamed down my cheeks and I sighed with pain.

It was calm, so tranquil, a timeless feeling since there _was_ no time at all. Just a feeling.  
So pure, in its most origin form, nameless, omnipresent; in every cell of this shapeless body. A world beyond or below words.

A pained cry left my mouth.  
That feeling was so unbearable, so intense, so strong, so overwhelming. Although it hurt so much to stay in it, it gave me such peacefulness that I _could_ not leave that state. Like a wall had been torn down; like it had always been there, but hidden somewhere. Hidden in a part of my brain which had already existed before words and language. It had been impossible to access it, since my thoughts consisted of words and the insuppressible need to describe everything with words.  
But this was just a feeling. A feeling for which no word I could have known existed. Except, maybe a mix of unity, peace, safety and pure happiness.

I sighed with pain again, the pain of a mind which was so troubled that it had ceased to think in its usual ways.  
I was left alone.

A few minutes later, two men entered the room and examined my body. It was needless to do so. I was fine.  
They talked to each other, something was done to my body, then one of them left and the other sat down next to my body.  
For hours, he sat there in silence.  
The sun rose, but the room around me remained dark.  
The sun set and I did not return.

During the second night, I could open my eyes.  
It felt strange and unfamiliar, so different from what I had seen, or rather experienced before. But I felt calm and peaceful.  
Silently, I stared into the darkness above me. The sky was dark. I had taken that along to this world, it was part of me and nothing could take it from me again.  
Breathing calmly and steadily, I sat up and looked at the man next to me. Eyes which I knew.

“How do you feel?”

A voice I knew too. And a whiff of that pure feeling travelled through the air and kissed my mind, gently.  
I could not reply, since I had no words for how I was feeling. Calmly, I stared at him and after a few moments, he realized that I was not in trouble anymore and his lips formed a faint smile. I took a deep breath and turned my head to look at the darkness again. It felt like all those spikes, thorns, wrinkles and bumps of my mind had been smoothened, evened out. The world had turned into one single piece, existing in consonance.

I gave a low, fascinated laugh and my lips got frozen in a smile.  
The man next to me got up and left and only returned one minute later to bring me a glass of water. I took it from him and drank. That was what it felt like to be alive.  
Changed, different, like a new existence.  
And it lasted.

Though, I could not explain what had happened during these months. Only a suit was left in my cupboard, a physical proof of something having happened. It was a suit which was too large for me, especially around the belly.  
Alfred had never lost a word about anything of that anymore.  
I was sure that it had happened. I wasn't sure about what exactly had happened, but I knew that it had. I simply could not ask anyone about it.  
Asking the Joker himself was pointless since that man was part of it, one way or another, and had he not been part of it he would have made himself part of it by lying to me.  
Maybe I would ask the doctor.

In the distance, another man came to reflect on the events of this night as he was cleaning the breast prosthesis.  
He felt proud of himself; what a show. He had come twice for him. The thought made him snicker. Never in his life would he have thought that he was ever going to pull something as wicked as that. Actually, he had expected things to not work out at all; that he either would come and beat the shit out of him and he could pull that silicone slip out of his ass after the Batman had stuffed it into it, or that the Batman would burst into laughing at seeing him dressed like that. And he didn’t know which would have been worse. It was new to him and to be honest, he didn’t feel very self-confident in that drag and had he laughed at him, he’d have felt so embarrassed that he never would have even thought of wearing anything else but boxers again.

In fact, he couldn’t even tell anymore how that had started and how he had gotten sucked in like that. True, it had started with him raping Bruce Wayne and pretending to impregnate him. Yet, how he had come up with _that_ sort of idea was a mystery to him. But from then on, things had taken an even stranger turn. Since it seemed like Bruce Wayne had taken that much too literally.  
Once he had seen him taking part in those antenatal exercises. They took place in a building with glass panes instead of walls and usually, the cafe vis-a-vis was full of men who seemed to take an abnormal kind of interest in those blimpy women performing the weirdest contortions.  
Well, what could he say. He had met someone at that cafe for business matters. Really.

He had come up with the idea of sending him a card then. If that idiot believed that he was pregnant he’d cap it all and send him a condolence card about his spontaneous abortion. Since, honestly, he could not keep that idiot pregnant. The entire town would laugh about him and in the end, he’d kill himself out of shame and over was all that fun with the Batman, no. That was inacceptable.

After his abortion, though, he had seized the opportunity and started the sickest joke of his life. He had not been sure about it at all, but it had been worth a try. If that man was so convinced that he could get pregnant he surely would be susceptible to all other sorts of tricks and illusions as well. For the second meeting at Ace Chemicals, he had put on that breast and vaginal prosthesis to turn himself into a woman and make it as real as possible. Against all scepticism, it had been a real delight how he had fingered him and he had almost come. He had felt it, felt his fingers there and almost he too had been tempted to believe that he had grown a pussy meanwhile in all secrecy.

Oh thank God for the trans people and their awesome inventions. That man had gazed at the vagina as if it had been real indeed and he had started to wonder what the heck was wrong with that man. Because even the dumbest idiot would have noticed, sooner or later, that it was just a lot of silicone and artificial juices. Maybe the leftovers from those chemicals which were still emitting those psychoactive vapours had burnt his brains away and given him a mental blackout. Maybe. But considering the gravity and especially the consistency of his delusion did not point to that. 

Something was wrong with that man. Definitely.  
And he was curious to find out. Since possibly, it would be fun. More fun than he had ever had with his bombs and knives. For a bedlam mind was the most precious toy for him and that man was strong enough to survive it.  
Additionally, he was taking a liking to dressing up as a woman, now that he had witnessed his reaction. According to the Batman, he was a real bombshell and that just flattered him. He’d think up another outfit for the next time since he was sure that there would be a next time, either initiated by the Bat or by him himself, if need be.

He’d call himself Violet.  
Miss Violent.  
Or even Mistress Violent.  
No, just Violet.  
With mulberry lips.

The man gave a squeak of joy and put his hand on his dick to masturbate to that thought.  
Breasts, a pussy, the prettiest one he could get, even; a slutty leather skirt, corsage, stockings, high heels. Thinking of himself dressed like that got him so hard that he laughed and put his fingers into his mouth to suck them. Just like he had sucked them in front of the Bat.   
Chuckling, he started pumping his dick.  
Dicks and pussies. All God’s creation; interchangeable by those who knew how to do it. It was so easy and didn’t even cost a penny.  
Shamelessly, he jerked off to that thought of fingering a female man while he himself was fucking his own pussy with the heel of those black high heels.

He had fallen for that image. He had not planned to expand his sexuality at all since it was much too difficult for him already, taking care of this thing next to business and it needed other people as well and those other people did not always fancy a fuck the way he liked it and so on; difficult, tiresome.  
But that mysterious woman.   
She was worth another thought.

_______


	3. Dysphoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce wants to meet the Joker again and since he is sure that he has turned into a woman by now as well he prepares himself for a night of wet sex in a cheap motel at the border of Gotham. And all goes well indeed until the Joker gets to think about what has actually happened.

** Dysphoria **

A tall man dressed in purple, green hair, red lips, went to his car to drive home. Before he opened the door of it he noticed a small piece of paper sticking to the window pane. He took it to read it, and only a few moments later, his hand sank down and he gazed at the roof of his car.  
He would have expected everything but that.  
_Everything_ but that.  
A short, fascinated laugh escaped him, then he opened the door and got in to drive home and prepare himself.

A few weeks later, I found myself in a situation which was even weirder than the ones before. I had accepted my special state and in fact, I got along well with it. It didn't pop up so often anymore and when it did, it didn't cause me any trouble. Except maybe when I had gone to the men’s room, was standing in front of the urinal and found out that there was nothing to pee with. At least nothing which I could have taken in my hand. But other than that, it worked out well for me. And since I knew that I could not simply go to a doctor and tell him that I was a part-time woman I had to resign myself to it anyway. He'd have said something like: “As soon as you turn into a woman again, please come to see me, will you?” And I knew that sort of thing and I wanted to spare myself that ridiculous shit.

But that wasn't the weird thing. The weird thing was that some kind of thoughts kept sneaking up to me when I was having too much time and at night, I tended to have the same kind of dreams over and over again. Surprisingly enough, I did not arrive at disapproving of that or even condemning that. I had simply accepted it like it had been natural. No fighting against it, no disgust with myself; just a passive kind of watching when these images showed up.  
However, after a while, that passive watching wasn't enough anymore though. I had to put it into action. And so I did.

Almost one year after that incident, I found myself scribbling a note to the Joker.  
I had not seen him ever since and I had gotten suspicious. He was doing that on purpose, hiding from me, but I did not know why. So I'd find out and kill two birds with one stone; finding out about his intentions and getting some satisfaction myself.  
Somehow, it felt strange to invite him, but since he had been playing along so well last time I could hope that he would behave himself this time too. Though, on Saturday, I took a small knife and put it into my bag, then I left Wayne Manor. In secrecy. I didn't want Alfred to see me in that skirt and leather shirt.

I drove to the place where we would meet, hopefully. When I had reached that street which was illuminated by just a few light posts under which a few women were posing already, I stopped the car and had another thought about this all. Suddenly, I felt doubt rising. What if I was not what I needed to be?

I licked my lips and reached between my legs and when I found a soft, wet cave there I grinned, licked my fingers clean and stepped on the gas to search for my whore. I had to pass a few until I spotted another one in the dim light a few metres away from a street light. When I saw the figure, I knew that it was him. Taking a deep breath, I drove there, stopped and winded down the window.  
Just a few steps and I only saw that wetlook skirt and his belly barely hidden by a fishnet top and bondage harness. 

I swallowed hard and wanted to touch him when he bent down and his face showed up. With his hands between his legs and his breasts dangling from his chest, poorly hidden by a black feather boa, he posed next to me, peering at me with eyes which were framed by black make-up, long artificial eyelashes, powder on his face, his cheeks a light red tinge and his lips shimmering with dark purple lipstick. Mulberry. His hair was gelled back like the last time I had seen him.  
He looked pretty unimpressed with those eyebrows raised, and that look was so attracting.

“How much for two hours?” I simply asked him like I was talking to a prostitute.

“For you, darling, just a fiffy.”

Although his voice was as deep as always, it did not make me think of anything male at all. His body looked so perfect that I would not be misled to believe that he was male just because his voice wasn't as high as those of other women. I was glad that he had shown up.

“Get in,” I said and started winding the window up.

He left, went around the car, opened the door and sat down next to me.  
Warily, he glanced at me and I could feel that he felt a little uncomfortable. I tried not to smirk since I had never seen him like that, so insecure. I wouldn't need that knife tonight.  
Bluntly, he reached under my skirt and felt for my genital. His fingers were cold and I flinched when he touched me there.

“You're really serious about this, aren't you?” he said with a mix of admiration and doubt at the same time. Though, his scepticism was most prominent.

I gave him a seductive smile, then I started the engine again and drove off with my precious load. All the time while I drove, he kept looking at me, watching me. I could not wipe that smile off my face until we stopped at a shabby no-tell motel in the suburbs of Gotham. From the corner of my eye, I watched him glancing at the sign in front of the motel and then looking at the building itself. And it felt like his heart dropped to his boots. Which made me reach top form.

“Okay,” I said with a cheery voice, “Get out and get us a room.”

He swiftly turned his head and gazed at me, baffled.

“Me?”

“Yeah,” I grinned.

He turned his head again and stared at the glovebox for some moments, then he got out. With greatest delight, I watched him wiggling his ass towards the reception, the high heels making it a bit difficult for him to walk on the pebbles, but it was just adorable. I got wet already at thinking about how I'd lift that skirt and grab his breasts through the fishnet fabric. How his nipples would stand out, framed by that black synthetic net.  
He disappeared in the building and I leaned back and waited. Just two minutes later, he showed up again and lifted his arm to show me the key in his hand. Whatever was going on in his head, I still had to be careful and watch for any attacks, as much as I had the feeling that he would not choose to fight me tonight.

I got out of the car, took the bag from the back seat and after two steps I turned my ankle, but I could keep myself from spraining it. Those pebbles were a real killer with those shoes I was trying to walk in.  
I heard him laughing. But it wasn't the kind of laughter which was meant to humiliate me; it was rather the laughter from someone who could relate to what had happened to me. I walked up to him and he went to the room and unlocked the door. It seemed like he had experienced a boost of self-confidence during the last five minutes and that feeling of insecurity was gone.

He entered and I followed him, then he locked the door and turned around to have a proper look at me. His eyes wandered up and down my body and suddenly, it was me who was feeling a little insecure. For a second, I saw a smile flashing over his face and I felt embarrassed. Maybe he wouldn't approve of this at all. Maybe I was just looking like a tacky tranny with that drag, wig and make-up. However, as I looked at him in his slut attire, I felt a little better since there wasn’t much difference between my and his clothes. Only that I rather looked like a high-class prostitute.  
I watched him grinning, then he said: “And now?”

“Now we have a drink,” I said and opened the bag to take a bottle of champagne from it.  
I took the two glasses from the table next to us and opened the bottle while he dropped the feather boa and sat down on a chair. Secretly, I watched him pulling down his skirt a little since it had slid up as he had sat down, then he crossed his legs. Now, in the light of this room, I saw that he had shaved them. The wet-look high heels looked so hot on his feet that I put down the bottle after filling one glass and got down on my knees. He had propped up his head and was watching me with great interest. 

Carefully, I took one foot and placed it on my palm while I touched it with my other hand to feel that material on my skin. As I became aware of what I was doing I froze. Anxiously, I peered at him from below to see his reaction. His dark purple lips were exposing his perfectly white teeth as he was smiling widely at me.

“Lick them,” he said without dropping his smile.

I took a deep breath and bent my head, feeling humble suddenly. And that was when I felt the blood moving into that area again where it had never been before just one year ago. For me, it was more a mind thing than a bodily thing. All that arousal seemed to happen in my head mainly, or even entirely, while my body just obeyed and pumped blood into my clitoral body.  
Feeling pleasantly aroused, I bent my head and licked across the heel. His smirk grew. I tried to imagine that it was his body I was touching with my tongue and I made sure that I touched every spot of those high heels. And the longer I licked them, the more grew my arousal. I had the feeling that it could grow ad infinitum, that there were no limits.

When I was done licking every inch of them, he removed his heel from my palm and pressed it against my breast. Panting, yet, trying to appear as calm as possible to not show him what a mind-blowing effect his presence had on me, I lifted my head and found him grinning seductively. Following a sudden notion, I dropped my gaze a little and snuck a peek at his crotch. His legs were spread since one of them was still resting on my chest and I could glimpse his vagina. Resting in the darkness under the skirt, waiting, ready.

He laughed and crossed his legs again with such an expansive gesture that the heel of his shoe hit my chin and I was woken from my dumb state.  
Grinning, he bent down and reached between my legs again to get some fluid on his fingers, which he then licked clean in the most seductive way he was just capable of.

“A bit underfucked, huh?” he said with a raised eyebrow, “So wet and we haven't even started yet.”

Helplessly, I sat on the floor, feeling my arousal growing at that humiliation. With dismay, I realized that I was ready to be used and even abused if he wanted that. I looked up at him, begging him to assume control since I was not capable of that anymore. And he got it.  
The grin dwindled into a very charming smile and he slid from his chair. He knelt down in front of me and just now, I became aware of his breasts. Unable to resist that urge, I groped them and they felt exactly the same as during our first encounter. He chuckled and pulled me closer for a kiss and while I kept fondling that firm ball I ran my fingers through his hair and ruined his hairdo.

His kiss was so tender that I closed my eyes and hummed through my nose. The thought that I was female and just kissing another femme, a femme fatale even, in this case, let me feel a pang in my guts. I knew that sensation and I smiled into his mouth as I felt it. Driven by a bolt of lust erupting in my stomach, I snuck my hand under my skirt and gave my clit a rub. I moaned into his mouth, but his lips quickly caught mine to suck them while he pulled my hand out and replaced it with his own. He drew back to watch me as he rubbed his fingers against the vulval vestibule and I gasped, surprised at how stimulating his touch was while I had thought that I had no nerves there at all. I had pleased many a woman by touching them there, even him, but I myself had never really understood about the thrill of that.

“Mhm, you've got _no_ idea,” he said grinning, “How much of this is sensitive tissue.”

As he turned to caressing my labia, I bent over to touch his as well and I had to grin too when I found out that he was just as wet as I. Greedily, I moved my fingers around in that bog of lust and licked the fluid from my fingers. A little bitter, this time. But no less appealing.  
Suddenly, he got up and pulled me up as well, then he guided me towards the chair and made me sit down. I saw that he was having a plan, but I could not tell which. 

He pulled the shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor, then he did the same with his bondage harness and fishnet top. His naked chest was a pleasure to look at.  
He noticed my stare, smirked and pushed my skirt up to expose my genital, then he did the same with his skirt and sat down on my thighs so that our vulvas were touching.  
The feeling made me breathe hard. Lost in lust, I gazed at him and he grinned and moved a little. The feeling of our genitals rubbing against each other was just breathtaking. So much loose flesh, so different from a rigid boner; pliable, swollen and dripping wet. But it wasn’t just the feeling; when I looked at his neatly shaved pussy rubbing against mine and how the labia were moved to the right and left I came to decide that currently, it was even more erotic than thinking of both of us having a dick and doing the same kind of thing.

He reached down and pulled back the prepuce of his and my clitoris, then he started humping me, rocking his hips and causing such an intense kind of friction that I started moaning. Enraptured, I pressed my head against his breast, embraced his fragile neck with one hand and gently kneaded his other breast. It was so different from our other encounters; usually, I only touched his neck when I was seizing his throat, but this touch was so sensual, so respectful. 

He showed his appreciation by kissing my forehead, then he cleared his throat and tried to support himself against my head as he lifted his ass a bit and shifted on my thighs to reach the floor with his toes. Breathing hard, I leaned back to watch what he was doing. Grinning mischievously, he closed his eyes and pressed his vulva against my belly. His labia opened up, embraced me and wetness kissed my belly. His grin became wider as he moved to the sides, smearing his love champagne all over my stomach, sanctifying it, honouring it. I reached for his booty and squeezed and his moan made me grin too. It was so sensual. 

As a man, I had never paid much attention to this aspect at all; I had always tried to please the women I had been having sex with without really feeling what I was doing, but now that I was one of them I could easily slip into that role and explore that kind of sensual sexuality as well. It wasn’t much different from male sexuality, but my body awareness was just so much higher in that state.  
A nipple in my eye made me quit my philosophical excursion and I opened my mouth to catch it. However, he moved to the side and I bit into air. His giggles told me that he was up for games and I lifted my head and grinned at him. This interaction was so much more carefree, light-hearted and laid-back than any other sexual interaction I had ever been part of. I started asking myself whether it was just because we were two women or whether I was exploring a side of mine which had always been there anyway.

And the fact that I was doing this with the Joker, at the end of the day, was incredible, actually. But heaven forbid would I address that since I feared that as soon as he’d become aware of what he really was doing there he’d instantly quit it and leave. So I hurried to catch his nipple, but he kept dodging my teeth until I got so worked up that I gripped his flanks and pulled him into my embrace and finally, my lips met his areola. I bit the bud; he cried out and dug his nails into my skin. I turned to sucking it again while I secretly snuck a hand between our bodies and touched his vagina to find out whether that would get him even wetter.

“You’re such a pervert,” he whispered into my ear and kissed it then.

“That’s extra, man,” he added and nibbled at my earlobe.

“What,” I asked while I fondled his clit again.

“The pain play.”

“Don’t be such a pussy,” I replied bluntly, “I see how wet that is getting you.”

My macho attitude was peeking through that tiny slit again, but I didn’t care. I could be a macho woman as well, why not.

“Nonsense,” he whispered into my ear and finally pinched my own nipple.

I clenched my teeth and did my best to not express the pain I felt. 

“No? What’s your kink then?” I said when I was ready to talk without whining again.

He drew back and I watched him licking his lips. He looked down at my genital, thinking. Then he looked into my eyes from below and I knew that he was having an idea. For half a minute, he stared into my eyes until he abruptly broke the contact and got up from my thighs.

“Take off the skirt and lie down.”

His command made me aware of my lust again. Usually, my lust turned into something very visible and tangible when I had a boner, but this time it was just wetness and that unbearable feeling, like an itch I could not scratch since as soon as I touched it, it turned into something else. Very mysterious. I had not figured that out yet; female arousal.

With a humble look in my eyes, I got up, took off the skirt and lay down on the bed with my feet touching the ground. His love juice had dried on my belly and a white crusty film was on it now. He went towards me and spread my legs since I had kept them shut, somehow feeling a little embarrassed to pose like that in front of him. But he unceremoniously spread them, shot me a warning glance and then left to inspect the bag I had brought along.

“No!” I said and sat up, but his threatening look told me that I were to shut up and stand it.

So I clenched my teeth and watched his ass as he bent down and rummaged around in the bag, on purpose, presenting me his booty with the labia visible between his legs. What a man.  
I heard him laughing and I blushed. I had taken along some toys I could imagine to use with him, but I had not been courageous enough to take any of them out yet. 

Leather straps and black rubber. I cringed when I realized what he had decided for. Taking a deep breath, I anxiously peered at him, waiting for him to turn around and embarrass me to no ends. He turned around, holding that gadget in his hand, leering at me.  
Somewhat relieved that he was not laughing at me, I propped myself up on my underarms and kept looking at him expectantly.

“I want this one,” he said and kept looking at me with those seductive eyes.

Not necessarily _my_ first choice, but I would go with it.  
It was a strap-on.

“Okay,” I stated calmly, lifting an eyebrow.

He put it on and while he put lube on it I moved back on the bed.  
I was excited. Seeing that black rubber dick right where his real one would have been was such a turn-on that I knew that we wouldn’t need any lube at all.

“We don’t need lube,” I said, thus, thinking that I did not want any artificial fluids in my vagina at all when my own lubrication worked so perfectly.

He glanced at me, gave a short laugh and then continued spreading the lube on it.

“You’re so crazy,” he said, grinning and finally wiping his hands clean on his thighs, “But I like that.”

And having that said, he turned to face me and this predatory look in his eyes made me catch my breath. Like a white panther, he moved towards the bed, crouched down and climbed it. He looked like the mixture of a snake and a cat, slowly and cautiously moving towards me. And the closer he came, the wider grew his smirk.  
When he was towering over me, the black rubber dildo hanging in the air above my genital, he reached down and spread the liquid on my vulva to prepare me for the intercourse. I was so excited that my legs twitched, but he didn’t take any notice of that.

He closed his mouth and shook his head, smiling to himself, then he sank down on his calves, took the dildo and aimed at my vagina. The rubber felt cold as the tip of the dildo touched my opening. He pressed, but it wouldn’t slide in. Nervously, I glanced at his eyes, but it seemed like he did not think that a problem at all. How often had I fucked women and how often had I spent minutes on stretching their vaginas. I just had to remind myself of that.  
He kept nudging it with the tip until he pressed more forcefully and the artificial glans slid in.

It was the most awesome feeling in the world as it passed the hymen and settled inside, pushing tight flesh walls aside. A strange feeling, but so pleasant that I wished it would last forever. Panting, I looked up at him and found him licking his lips, yet, freezing in the middle of it and grinning again, his tongue resting on his lower lip. Such a sexy look.  
He drew back and the glans left my body again and to add to that bodily sensation, he raised his eyebrows, widened his eyes and opened his mouth, imitating a gasp without gasping. And the next second, he relapsed into that grin again as I swallowed hard and closed my eyes at that feeling.

“Once again,” he whispered and nudged my labia with the tip, then he let it enter again and this time, he moved towards me a little to push more of it inside. His dick was so big and it even hurt a little, but it was no wonder since I was using that vagina in that way for the first time in my life. Yet, when he saw the pain in my eyes he drew back again and stayed there for a while, waiting for me to adjust myself. Gods, I wanted to sit up and grab his balls, but there were none.  
I snorted with frustration. Somehow, I could not really make up my mind as for what I wanted.

But anyway, his hearty shove ended that discussion as he made the entire dildo disappear inside me. The gasp got stuck in my throat and I just stretched my neck and clutched at the blanket. He moved backwards and almost pulled it out and when only the tip was still inside, he moved towards me and buried it again. That slow move teased the hell out of me.

“Don’t tickle me, fuck me!” I complained and sat up a bit to look at our locked genitals.

“Patience, you little slut,” he said grinning and just did the same again before he really started fucking me.

Quick and forceful thrusts, every single one of them hitting my G-spot and I was so aroused by now that I only would have needed a few more thrusts to come, but he knew that somehow and slowed down again, teasing my hymen with the glans again. I gave a needy moan and tried to convince him of making me come finally, but he just kept grinning at me, enjoying my helplessness.  
Since indeed, it was helplessness. I depended on him; the only thing I could do to help myself was rubbing my clit and defiantly, I lifted the prepuce and started rubbing it, looking at him like a stubborn child. 

As I touched it I felt that my clit had grown; I did not remember it being so large, but what was normal anyway those days. Panting hard, I rubbed it until it got as hard as my dick usually would get. I bit down on my lower lip, having fallen into some sort of trance where I only had my orgasm in mind, no matter how I would reach that.  
And like he knew, just then he pushed my hands aside, removed the dildo completely and pushed it back in so forcefully that I cried out with pleasure.

“You’re one hell of a mess, Bruce,” I heard it above me, coming in pants.

He turned to long and extensive thrusts again and just after the third one I felt close to orgasm. I got nervous and closed my eyes, trying to cling to that in my head since I felt that I just needed another thought or image to come, to send me over the edge.

“What?” I gasped and concentrated on my head rubbing against the sheets as he fucked me.

“You’re one hell of a _fucking_ mess!!!” he yelled as he came and I opened my eyes to watch that spectacle. 

His mouth was wide open and he looked so concentrated like it was a new experience for him too.

“Fuck is that tight!” he gasped, shoved it in for another time and waited for me to catch my orgasm.

It had happened without me noticing. My breathing had sped up, my mind gone blank, completely blank, while my body had started twitching and squirming and just when he had said those words I became aware of myself coming.  
Tears were streaming down my cheeks because it was such an intense feeling and I sat up and hugged him; yet, he fell down on me and I hugged him even more tightly, desperately needing to feel him on my skin. His body was wet, and so was mine and as he still kept rocking his hips, faintly but noticeably, his pubes were rubbing against my clit and I abandoned myself to the longest orgasm I had ever had in my life.

It just wouldn’t end. That stimulation went on and on as long as his belly caressed my clit. I gasped with bliss and hid my eyes in his hair, needing some privacy during that intense moment.  
Until it started to hurt and my thighs twitched from overstimulation. I gave a pained moan and he stopped moving, getting it.  
And together, we lay there, catching our breath, happy and spent. I felt so spent. Usually, when I orgasmed as a man, I felt like being ready and motivated to run a marathon after that, but as a woman, I just felt pleasantly spent.

After a minute though, he propped himself up and removed the dildo from my vagina. A string of semen went along with it and I wrinkled my brow. White fluid on that dick. It must have been my own. I sucked in the air and sat up, and by doing so I produced a squelch as the air left my vagina. A bit embarrassed, I glanced at him but he didn’t seem like having noticed. Just when fluid trickled on the sheets he wiped it away and licked it from his fingers. It made him raise an eyebrow, but I did not ask him why.

Sighing, he got up and took off the strap-on, then he went to the bathroom to clean it and himself. And me, lost in warm and fuzzy feelings, dwelling on thoughts, spread myself on the bed, exposing my wet pussy.  
I was just thinking of his tasty booty when I noticed the water being turned off. He’d come out of the bathroom in a minute and I’d pull him on the bed and snuggle up to him.  
But he didn’t. After five more minutes, I got suspicious, got up and opened the door. He was leaning against the wall, rubbing his eyes, the strap-on in the sink. When he noticed my presence, he looked up, cleared his throat and took the strap-on and a towel to dry it. A strange vibe was coming from him, like he was suffering from regrets or something like that. I couldn’t really tell.

When he was done he wordlessly passed me, put the thing on the table and was about to put on his skirt when I took his hand and made him look up. Our eyes met, yet, he felt so embarrassed that he looked away and I didn’t understand anything anymore.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him.

“Nothing,” he said, yet he sounded so ashamed that I started to feel awkward.

I put my hand on his shoulder, feeling the need to ask him again and make him talk, but he turned violent then. Gritting his teeth, he pushed my hand off his shoulder and put on his skirt and I just took a few steps back, gazing at him in confusion. When I tried to empathize with him I was getting the same feeling which I had had after sucking him off at the chemical plant.  
Shame, confusion, guilt.

When he had thrown the feather boa over his shoulders and hurried to the door I jumped after him though and firmly gripped his wrist. He was the Joker, he could deal with that kind of shit.  
Violently, I turned him around and pressed him against the wall.

“You think you can fuck me like Don Juana and then turn this into a super drama?”

It was rhyming, but I absolutely did not need that right now. And actually, I didn’t even know what I was doing; his sudden insecurity just driving me mad.

“Let go of me, you sick wackjob!”

“What?!”

He was making me feel like a pervert who had just done something forbidden and hurt someone.

“This is just sick!” he spat at me, “I’ll be in for a lot of alternative and pervy stuff, but this is just sick! You’ve made me use that thing although I’ve got one myself; I just don’t get you! You’re so fucked!” he exclaimed and wriggled out of my grip, then he opened the door and hurried out.

Wide-eyed, I watched him walking down the lane and disappearing in the dark. Then I looked down at myself. Nothing wrong.  
Pursing my lips in consternation, I slowly walked to the chair and sat down, thinking hard about his words.  
What did he mean when he said he had one himself? He had seemed to positive about using it after he had discovered it in the bag. And I had not made him use _anything_. I didn’t get him.  
But maybe, it was just the shame of the first time. Maybe he’d need time to get used to that thought. I had needed time to get used to my body as well and apparently, he had not become friends with himself yet.

That was okay.  
It was confusing, especially these days, when everything seemed possible.

____

It took me three hours to walk back to my flat. Various times, I turned my ankle and I started to feel cold in my sparse clothing and several times, drivers stopped by and asked me whether they could pick me up or how much a night with me would be, but I just kept walking in silence, not even shooting them a glance. I felt so angry and so frustrated that I would have shot them three holes in their heads, had I just had a gun with me.

It had been the shittiest idea ever to dress up for him and do that sort of thing. As I kept walking I started asking myself what exactly had turned me on so much when I had thought of dressing up the first time when in the end, it was just all the same. Or was it.  
No, it wasn’t. But currently, I couldn’t draw any pleasure from my own sexiness since it was just...a drag.

At home, I got rid of that stuff and took a hot bath. And as I sat there in the warm water, steam filing up the room and the candles flickering next to me in the darkness, I came to think of him again.  
As much as he had turned me on, I felt sorry for him, somehow. I could barely stand thinking of him in those clothes and even less, him believing that he had a pussy and that I had fucked him there. A few days ago, I had found that so very appealing, interesting, funny, even, him believing that he had turned into a woman, but now after this, I just felt sad. He was profoundly ill and I had abused him. Usually, that was no problem at all; I had abused many people in my life already, toyed with many people in various mental states, but he was another story.

I needed him sane in order to keep on fighting me. I needed him exactly the way he was to continue our nightly tag. And I doubted that he’d be able to continue with that mindset of his. Worst case: He’d enrol in a Tupperware party evening and buy useless plastic shit.  
I sank down a little further until the water was touching my earlobes. Funny thoughts, but I feared that they could come true.  
As much as I loved seeing him so confused, there was a part of me which just wanted to end it. I couldn’t say that what I was doing to him wasn’t fair because it had never been fair what I had been doing, but this weird thing was bugging me. Somehow.

I swallowed hard when a strange thought came to my mind. Did it really bother me because I was fearing that I’d lose him to the lesbos? That he’d hook a saucy chick up and spend the rest of his life happily together with her? Licking her and feeling his imaginary twat up? Fuck, I could not lose him to the dykes. I needed to talk to him.

Motivated beyond all reason, I got up from the bathtub, staggered and almost fell down again since my circulatory system was revolting in a very nasty way.  
Dripping wet, I made it to the couch though where I sat down and took a deep breath. All that genital trouble. Just because I had fucked him on that gyn chair.  
Lost in thoughts about male insemination, I looked down and found my own dick having retreated. Usually, I was getting very horny during such hot baths in the darkness, but those thoughts had just turned me off. And it wasn’t supposed to be like that. I was already missing those days when I had lain down in that hot tub, thinking of him and jerking off to those visual stimuli, but _these_ images now were rather good for chastening me. I missed my muscly badass bat who’d punch my face and make my nose bleed. I was aching for that; for one fucking year I had been going without that, chastening myself on purpose to go cold turkey and giving him some time to reflect on us. I had tried to make myself understand that I didn’t need him. But fuck, I needed him.

When I had chosen to meet him again at Ace Chemicals I had felt so excited at seeing him again that I had gotten carried away with that sexual act. I had not even expected him to interact with me at all. And all that cold turkey had been completely in vain.  
And the second time, it had been that thrill of anticipation which had made me agree on his plan to meet me on Carbow’s Street and pick me up. And admitted, that imaginary sex with us two lesbians had left an impact on me. I’d keep that in mind, but for now, I needed him back to normal since I had the feeling that he was losing his mind and himself in delusional ideas and perceptions. Our previous meeting and those happenings had served to change my attitude towards my own joke and I could not stand watching him going insane any longer.

The next day, I sent him another card, asking him to come to the Terra Tona Cafe, tomorrow, 6pm. It was an insider pub for the gays and lesbians and whatever was between and beyond that and I thought that the Batman and the Joker wouldn’t attract much attention if they showed up there. I’d just be some weird freak with make-up and green hair.  
And to prevent him from falling deeper into confusion, I chose to wear a black suit, grey shirt and black tie; the stereotype of a male. I prayed that he wouldn’t show up in femme clothes since honestly, I didn’t know how I would react to that and I was afraid of myself finding that sexy.

Nervously, I moved around on the chair, waiting for him, watching the entrance closely, surrounded by fags and dykes. As I looked around, I realized that I had no idea anymore what I myself actually was. I had never paid any attention to terms or descriptions, but I had believed myself to be straight. Not that it would have mattered to me.  
When I noticed a single male staring at me in secrecy I rolled my eyes, annoyed at that obvious sign of interest by one of those. If he didn’t show up there within the next five minutes I’d leave this hell pit. My glass was empty and my seat too hot. And things were getting just hotter around me.

A man entered the cafe. He wore a fine black suit, a white shirt and a black tie. He looked so adorable that he drew many eyes to him, but his own eyes were glued to one man whom he was walking up to. When I spotted him, I felt a pang in my guts.  
No, it was even worse. Had he worn those femme clothes I’d have found him exotically sexy, but him wearing that suit, looking so serious and dangerous, even, made him look right out hot. He sat down in front of me and for a second, I watched his face contorting with pain. Yeah, his pretty penetrated ass.  
My smile faded as I heard something clicking under the table.  
I knew that sound. It was the trigger of a gun.

Slowly, I lifted my hands to show him that I was vulnerable and would not fight at all. I heard the same kind of clicking again, then he leaned back and crossed his legs. And without wanting that, my eyes glanced at his crotch, wondering whether currently, he was just squashing his penis and testicles between his muscular thighs, or whether he didn’t have any difficulties sitting there like that at all since his genital had spontaneously turned into a flat piece of cake again. However, I could not tell by one single glance.  
Having caught myself peering at his crotch, I licked my lips in embarrassment and lifted my head to look into his eyes.

“What has actually happened?” I started off and that question was a brilliantly stupid one since he never would explain this to me. Simply because I thought that he was having absolutely no clue what had happened either.

“What’s happened?” he asked and gave a short laugh, “You pussed out.”

I drew my upper lip under my lower one, trying hard to ignore the pun.  
He was oozing so much masculinity that I was starting to feel confused, intimidated even.

“No, I don’t mean that,” I said with a low voice.

He smiled at me.  
But that smile wasn’t a friendly one. It was one which told me that he knew exactly what I was talking about and that he knew so much more than I currently did.

“What did you think,” he started, his voice sounding so amused that my confusion grew, “That I’ve come to believe that I’ve got a pussy?”

He ended his question with a huge, sheepish grin.  
I wrinkled my brow at that.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding and the wrinkles on my forehead deepening, “Kind of that, yeah.”

He gave another amused laugh and turned his head to look at some gays. As he got lost in his own thoughts I peered hard at him, believing that he would not notice.  
So he was aware of that. Knew that he was having a steady penis and well, what else? It was hard for me to imagine which kind of thoughts he might have had. Was that an entirely mental thing? Or did he really see a vulva when he looked down? At some point, I was asking myself why I was so terribly interested in the nature of his thoughts.  
I felt terribly gay.

His smile suddenly changed back into a grin and he turned his head again to look at me. I clenched my teeth; he knew now that I had been staring at him all the time. He grinned and shook his head, saying: “I am whatever I want to be. Believe me, I _can_. And I don’t care much about anyone claiming that this is just insane. You of all wouldn’t call me insane, would you?”

He was daring me.  
And at the end of the day, I was the only one left who was having troubles accepting what had happened; troubles acknowledging that I was more than a man who enjoyed fucking biological women and troubles catching up with all those realizations. I bit down on my lip, feeling intimidated. I shifted on my chair, that awkward feeling making me want to get up and hit him, but I was too proud than to give in like that.

“I don’t call that insane,” I finally said with a faint voice.

“You’re right, not insane, but what did you call it...right. Sick.”

Just when I was about to tell him that I had only left that night because I had not understood what had happened and that I had been distraught over his strange behaviour, I crossed my legs and stopped myself from opening my mouth since only embarrassing justifications would leave it and I felt like losing if I just voiced them. It was what he wanted.

“So?” I said dismissively, shrugging one shoulder, “You care about what I say?”

He bit down on his lip now and snorted with amusement.  
He was so different from the last time we had met. So self-confident, so assertive, so aggressive.

“Why actually am I here, may I know? I’ve been surprised that you’ve been asking me out to _such_ a place,” he said, moving his eyes around to show me what he thought of these folks.

That passive aggressiveness made me feel angry, finally. I had come here to have a talk with him to convince him of being positively male and he just mocked at me.

“You know what? Fuck you,” I muttered, got up and passed him to leave.

Yet, as I passed him, he grabbed my wrist, pulled me down and kissed me.  
Whispers around me, my cheeks blushing.  
I squirmed, but he put his hand on my head and kept our lips pressed together for another moment before he let go to sneer at me. Huffing and puffing, I gazed at him, my brain trying hard to process Bruce Wayne just having kissed me. Hard.  
When it was ready to tend to other tasks again, I exhaled loudly and turned around to storm off.

“Farewell, little drama queen!”

I clenched my teeth and stopped halfway. I would not condone that. Fuming with rage, I turned around and pointed at him with my forefinger.

“You don’t call me that!”

“No? What would you like to be called instead?” he called through the cafe, making those people, who still were not looking at us, look at us now to follow this tacky bitch fight.

“Nothing!!!” I yelled, “At least not by _you_!”

“Uuuuuh,” I heard it next to me; a very brave gaylord commenting my insult by mocking me and pretending that he was afraid.

“Do you even know who you’re talking to, you little bumfucker?” I hissed and grabbed his collar, but I heard him getting up and walking up to me so I let go of him again, shot Bruce Wayne one last glance and then left before he could reach me.  
Grinding my teeth, I walked down the street, but not long and he was behind me again.

“ _You_ used to call me darling!” he shouted after me, “What would _you_ like to be called then?”

I chose to ignore him.  
Usually, I was the one who found himself being ignored by others when it got too much for them, and never had I actually felt so desperate as to ignore someone else, so this was a premiere. A premiere of piteousness. Not the first one during the last few days.  
I slammed my hands into my pockets and kept walking, hoping that he would not be so stupid as to catch up with me and chat me up again.

“Just wait! Tell me; whatever it is. Let me guess. The Platon of Crime?”

I swiftly turned around, seized his throat and was just about to hit him when _he_ hit _me_.  
A bleeding nose, an aching cheek and a smiling asshole next to me. Fine, just what I needed.

“You’ve made my day,” I said sarcastically while I tried to keep the blood from dripping on my suit and shirt. It stung so much that I bent down and hissed; how could he punch me so hard with just reaching out for half a metre. Well, the bat was back. I should have danced for joy, but right now, I didn’t quite feel like doing so.  
Gasping and moaning, I turned around and started walking again and when I heard his footsteps behind me I straightened my back, turned around and yelled at him: “I’m done for today, okay?! I just wanted you to be well, but you are just an asshole! Joke’s on me, right? HA HA! Now _leave_ me alone!”

And having said that, I turned around and walked off.  
And behind me, Bruce Wayne stood in the middle of the pavement, his hands in his pockets, smiling, faintly. A smile no one would have noticed but me.  
It was an honest smile. And a promise at the same time. He just had wanted to hear _that_ and nothing else.  
When he had lost sight of that man with the green hair, who was still clutching his nose, he turned around and left, that smile persisting. A warm feeling spread in his guts and he was glad that he had accepted his invitation. To hear that he mattered to him, even cared about him made him swoon over that man.  
Pussy or dick, it didn’t matter at all.

_________


End file.
